A Low

It's 90-95% positive.  I'm groovin' in my days, chasing and loving my daughter, spending time with hubby, doing my work project.  Out of 24 hours, a minute here or there seem to contaminate the positive.  Or writing an entry like this, but I think I need to write it to get it all out there!  Sometimes, it just goes there.  I am human.

There are constant physical reminders, post surgery/recovery, of there being an unanswered question.  Will all be ok, or not?  Within 8-9 days, there are times when I'm just beat, reminded, not so able to see that without a doubt, everything will be ok.  Why am I so tired sometimes?  Why do I feel so not myself sometimes?...  It makes me so frustrated!! 

My appointment with doc is on Wednesday (one week from today).  "I'm sure it will be fine" has come from my lips and those all around me a hundred or so times by now.  But I am a grown woman, still nervous to go to that office and hear what this doctor has to say.

How would I react if it weren't all good?  Would I be strong enough to be gracious? would I be kicked in the gutt and lose it?  Would I not even blink and know I'd fight it till it were gone?  Do I know that no matter how hard you fight it, sometimes life ain't fair?  Yes, I do.  I've seen that story before in friends.  A friend and his two boys who lost their wife and mother to cancer.  Wendy.  She has been in my mind a lot these days.  I began a journal when I first heard she was diagnosed with cancer.  I wasn't a mom at that point, but the love she had for her sons was so brilliant and deep, the news of her having such an aggressive cancer was absolutely shattering. 

I didn't know what to do, or how to give to her life, her fight, other than to write.  To write how she inspired me and would be here to continue to inspire her sons, husband, family and friends.  Coincidentally, last week, I found that journal out of necessity for a journal to write notes in.  I've read some of my entries from back then.  I was in Europe at the time 2004.  Wendy, who was the picture of health, such a warm and brilliant soul, who loved her boys to the moon and back, continues to move my life as a mother. 

I wrote a text to her husband yesterday, trying to let him and their sons know that her life and her love made me a better person... but I deleted it.  Started again.  Deleted it.  Would it bring up too much pain?  Would it help them to know that her light is still in this world and she is so not forgotten?  Or would it hurt too much to know she should be here?

She was one of the reasons I considered private surgery.  I remember her hubby's words to my husband, "it things don't seem right, get it checked out right away.  Don't wait".

How would I look at my daughter to know it wouldn't just be my fight, but hers to?  Her life would be shifted huge. 

I wish I could just lift up my 'skirt' and check for myself, "Everything good down there?  Looks fine!  'I'M FINE, YIHOOOO!!'"  But I can't, so I wait.  "It'll be fine".

Next week's schedule begins to shape up.  I wonder where I'll be one week from today. 

Sometimes, I do worry.   Today is just a tired day.